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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308590">no more compasses, i'm scared to run</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/slpdeprived/pseuds/slpdeprived'>slpdeprived</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>fromis_9 (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>? - Freeform, Gen, I'd say it's found family but it's not exactly found family if you know what I'm saying, Sibling Bonding, chaeyoung seoyeon and jiwon are my pure of heart dumb of ass trio we should appreciate them more, i don't know what to tag this so, not tagging relationships for rn because a) the tags probably don't exist and 2) i dont wanna, that tweet about me writing niche concepts that only two people like? this was it, this concept has been in my brain for months, y'all think I tag things properly?? pshhh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:20:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,515</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308590</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/slpdeprived/pseuds/slpdeprived</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"You, my darling girl, are so good, and so full of light. Everyone you trust is attracted to it, and each one of them has the same light in them as well. Whoever you meet in the future will be the same way. So no matter what happens, I know you’ll be alright.”</p><p>Chaeyoung’s eyes narrow, her voice teasing. “And you know that for a fact?” she says. Even if not, she’d still believe it to be. Her mother’s word is her law. She is the strongest source of faith that she has. </p><p>Mom’s other hand comes up to cup her cheek, leaning forward to place a kiss on her forehead. “If I believe in nothing else,” she whispers. “It’s in that.”</p><p> </p><p>alternatively: In limbo, Chaeyoung's family grows.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>no more compasses, i'm scared to run</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>will I ever stop writing works for minuscule circles of interests? probably not. my trend of several month long gaps between posting will probably also never end lmao</p><p>the idea for the lee-kim siblings really just came at a whim a couple months ago, but it's been one of my favorite things to come out of those dm aus that you know you'll probably never write but create entire stories for anyways. I actually didn't want to tag any relationships because this story isn't really about the romantic relationships, and the tags for the big relationship in this fic doesn't exist and probably never will exist. Maybe that will change but idk. this is the story of someone who has lost and gained family in very quick succession, and now is learning how to balance that. with this sudden shift in scenery--albeit with some familiar faces still--chaeyoung has decide her new direction in life without her most important person, and where these new people fit into it.</p><p>constructive criticism is always welcome, so feel free to leave any comments and enjoy!</p><p>title is from children by bvndit</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    In the funerals on tv, everything is so dreary. Crowds of twenty or so all stand solemnly around a hole in the ground as the priest recites a bible verse or says some profound statement about life and death. Their umbrellas cluster together like cells, held even with the clearest of grey skies. Mom would always laugh when Seoyeon mentioned that, say that she’s looking too much into it. And Seoyeon would whine and complain about how impractical it was, talk about how if she was directing it would’ve been raining to better represent the mood. Mom would look at her like she was her pride and joy, ask if she’d take the rest of them with her when she made it big. Ask her to take care of her bright daughter, keep her out of trouble. Always exclude herself--</p><p>    She’s getting off topic. The sun is in Chaeyoung’s eyes. The white clouds and blue skies make her angry, combining with her stinging eyes to give her a dull, consistent headache. A day like this should be enjoyable. Sons will be playing catch with their fathers, families will be holding picnics and walking their dogs. Instead, Chaeyoung is burying her mother. No one ever said these things were fair.</p><p>    The grips on both of her hands tightens, grabbing her attention from the center of the pit. Her still swollen knuckles throb, a weak protest. She glances to her left to see Seoyeon’s head still on her shoulder, cherry red hair covering her face. To her right, Jiwon’s looking at her with sad, wide eyes. Chaeyoung bites the inside of her cheek.</p><p>    “We’re about to throw the dirt,” she mutters. Chaeyoung nods. She starts to taste iron. Soon enough the priest finishes his monologue. They slowly walk up towards the casket, hand in hand. She even makes sure to take smaller strides so that they aren’t dragged along. Jiwon’s hand slips out of hers once they stop in front of the dirt pile. The first attempt her hands are too weak, she grasps it too loosely. A breeze nearly blows all of it out of the gaps between her fingers, leaving her with specks in the creases of her palm. Then Seoyeon sniffles beside her, and she grabs the dirt almost with an anger. Her arm almost moves too quickly to hover over the casket.</p><p>    She stops, takes a deep breath, and lets go. </p><p>    Seoyeon’s scatters silently from her left hand, the other gripping Chaeyoung’s like a lifeline. Who needs it more, she’s not sure. </p><p>    “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” Jiwon mutters. It’s a Christian thing, she thinks. At her grandparents’ funeral all her family members had said it. She explained it later to her and Seoyeon, something about the soul being released from the body and leaving the body to become dust. It was interesting, but they were never very religious.</p><p>    The crowd dissipates once they start filling the grave. There weren’t many people there anyways--some of her mom’s coworkers, family friends, hospital staff. None of them held umbrellas. A few of them cried. Chaeyoung didn’t look back to check, she didn’t want them to see her eyes all red. She didn’t want to see <em> their </em> eyes, staring sadly at the poor girl who lost the one family member she had to her name. Whose mother died before they could celebrate their shared adulthood together. She knows that’s what they’re thinking. It’s what the nurses would whisper in the hospital, how her only consistent visitors were a couple of teenage girls. “What would they do without her?” they’d say. She never knew how to answer.</p><p>    The grave is halfway full when she walks away, taking her friends with her. There’s a couple of people still there--a couple in suits whose eyes follow her as she passes by, a social worker who waits patiently by his black car. They stop by a tall, thick tree, sitting on the roots that bulge out of the ground. Jiwon hums something, a pop tune that’s been on the radio for the past couple of weeks. Seoyeon’s silent tears leak through the fabric of her sweater. Chaeyoung leans back against the tree, closing her eyes. She wants to scream, but feels too weak to even whisper. The sun shines again, making it bright behind her eyelids. </p><p>    As the birds chirp their song of the afternoon, fat tears make their escape down her cheeks.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>    “Kid?” she hears. Chaeyoung looks up and sees the social worker staring at her. Rolling her eyes, she turns her attention back to the specks in the tile. The social worker flounders for a second at her attitude. He quickly recollects himself, clearing his throat.</p><p>    “Kid, there’s some people here to see you.”</p><p>    “I don’t want to see them,” she rasps. Her throat is still sore from crying. The bright lights of the corridor make her head throb more. “Tell them to leave.”</p><p>    “Chaeyoung...”</p><p>    She looks up through the thick curtain of hair that’s fallen in front of her face, spying two tall figures standing a bit behind the social worker. It’s the couple that were at the funeral, the pair that was watching her. How nice, the agency wants to give her new parents so quickly. How cruel that it’s two hours after she put her mother in the ground. “I’m not seeing anyone. Sorry to waste your time.”</p><p>    The man turns to his partner, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe we should leave her be for now,” he suggests. It’s faint, but she can hear it. The woman brushes him off, instead walking towards the bench Chaeyoung’s sitting on. Her heels click rhythmically against the tile. Sighing, the man follows behind her.</p><p>    “This will only take a few moments,” she says. She looks young, now that Chaeyoung has a closer look. They both do, sporting the same dark eyes and black hair that’s almost blue. Hers is cut into a bob, the ends curling up around her chin. It reminds her of the women she’d see at her mom’s work. “May I sit?”</p><p>    Chaeyoung purses her lips, nodding. The woman gives her a small, sweet smile before sitting down. Legs crossed, purse gently set on the side. She’s suddenly conscious of how her joint hands hang between her legs.</p><p>    “I like your hair,” she says. “When did you get it done?”</p><p>    Chaeyoung brings a hand up to her burgundy locks, twirling a strand around her finger. “A month ago,” she answers. Seoyeon wanted to touch up her roots. She kept complaining about the red stained bathroom counter and how mad her parents would be if it didn’t come out. Jiwon was home for the weekend. She sat on the toilet seat, filming them and joining in the chorus of whatever song came on the radio. Sounding the best out of all of them, easily. When it was done they all crowded around the sink and facetimed her mom. The next day she and Seoyeon brought her a red cap for her head, to match.</p><p>    She doesn’t know if she spaced out or not, but the woman only hums. She briefly glances at her companion, who’s now leaning against the wall across from them. “I’m Minkyung, and this is my brother Mingyu,” she introduces.</p><p>    “I don’t want to be adopted,” Chaeyoung says quickly. Minkyung blinks, taken aback. Her brother takes over.</p><p>    “We’re not here to adopt you, Chaeyoung.”</p><p>    For some reason, she nods. “G-good,” is what stammers out. She winces internally. “I’m almost nineteen anyways. My birthday is in two months.”</p><p>    “We know.”</p><p>    “Oh.” She frowns, her eyebrows knitting together. “Then why are you here?”</p><p>    Minkyung swallows. She starts to speak softly, slowly. The hairs on Chaeyoung’s arms start to rise. She doesn’t need any more bad news.</p><p>    “Chaeyoung, has your mom talked about your dad? At all?”</p><p>    She only gets more confused, shaking her head. “Um, not really. She’s mentioned how they met a couple times. She served a table for him and a couple of his coworkers, he gave her his number, they went on a few dates and the rest is history. She moved after she found out she was having me, but that was it. Didn’t change her number or anything. She said they never saw each other again.”</p><p>    The siblings exchange glances. She can only feel her anxiety rising, thrumming under her skin. She looks between the two of them a few times, the dots connecting in her head. Her frown shapes into a scowl.</p><p>    “If my father wants to have a relationship with me now, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline,” she says. Both of their heads snap towards hers, wide eyes slowly melting into sympathetic ones. “He had twenty years to do that. I don’t want some sympathy parent.”</p><p>    “It’s um, not him actually,” Minkyung says. “It’s us.”</p><p>    Chaeyoung growls. “I don’t want any sympathy siblings either.”</p><p>    “We didn’t know you existed, Chaeyoung. Not until a week or so ago.”</p><p>    “Then what’s wrong with keeping it that way?” Both of the siblings look down. Mingyu’s hands slide into the pockets of his suit. The gold lettering on Minkyung’s purse glints, reflecting the light of the hall. “Go take your guilt over your little orphan sibling somewhere else, I don’t want it.”</p><p>    “It’s not guilt,” Mingyu says. He moves forward, closer to his sister. “We would have wanted to get to know you regardless. If we knew about you weeks, months, or years before we actually did.”</p><p>    “Then why didn’t you? Why weren’t you here from the first moment you knew my name?”</p><p>    Once again, they exchange looks. It’s aggravating. “We didn’t want to overwhelm you. You were already dealing with your mom’s death, we were just giving you some space until things were more stable.”</p><p>    “I buried my mother an hour ago,” she says. She hates how her voice breaks.</p><p>    “We know. We were there,” Minkyung says. She pauses, glancing around. “You have a good support system Chaeyoung. I’m surprised they’re not here right now, actually.”</p><p>    She swallows thickly. “That’s because I sent them away,” she mutters.</p><p>    “Why?”</p><p>    “So that they could take care of themselves instead of worrying about me,” she says. “It would be selfish of me to not send them away. She wasn’t just my mom. We’ve known each other since we were in primary school, they’re going through this just as much as I am. And I don’t...I don’t want to drag them down because they’re so worried about me.” Not that that would stop them, of course. Jiwon had sent her a text as soon as she left the building. They would probably be back for her the next day, and the next, and the next. They’re dumb like that.</p><p>    Minkung looks at her with kind eyes, soft with understanding. “You’re too selfless, kid.”</p><p>    She looks down at the ground, starting to count the specks again as her leg bounces. “They’re all I have left,” she confesses. A hand rests gently on her knee. Not stopping her movement, but just being present. The tears welling up aren’t easy to blink away. When she looks up, Minkyung’s face is blurry.</p><p>    “They don’t have to be.” </p><p> </p><p>    That night, she can’t sleep in the bed provided for her. Sohee’s snores aren’t helpful either, but at least one of them is getting some rest. There’s physically keeping her from falling asleep, the bed is warm and comfortable. But when she closes her eyes, what seems like hours of staring into black ends up only being minutes.The haze of sleep never seems to actually claim her. So she just lies in bed with her eyes closed, listening to one of the playlists Seoyeon made her, too aware of everything in the room. Too aware of the suitcase that’s packed and tucked away under her bed, of the cars that drive by every twenty minutes, of heavy limbs resting on the mattress. Of the picture of her mother that rests beside her, smiling up at the ceiling.</p><p>    There’s a weird feeling in the air when they eat breakfast that morning, like everyone knows that something will change. And something is changing, of course. As brief as their time together was, the foster family treated her as one of their own. The kids were kind enough to not bother her <em> too </em>much, although some of the younger ones tested her patience. They had all been told that she’d be leaving last night, which was met with silence, affirming grunts, and a couple hugs. She wonders if they have an idea of where she’s going, or who exactly is taking her. She certainly doesn’t.</p><p>    Mingyu arrives on time, a silver car pulling up outside a minute before ten am. She says her goodbyes before proceeding out the door, suitcase in hand and backpack on her back. The door behind her shuts quietly, but she can tell that the kids are piling up in front of the window, peering curiously at the handsome man with the expensive car. </p><p>    “Where’s your sister?” she asks. </p><p>    “She had a meeting,” he says. She lets him take her suitcase and put it in the trunk, choosing to carry her bag with her. “If it wasn’t for work, she would be here.”</p><p>    Chaeyoung shrugs before getting in the passenger’s side, Mingyu holding the door open for her. “If you say so.” She says a quiet thank you, choosing to close it herself. One polite wave in the direction of the window later, and they’re on their way.</p><p>    They don’t speak again until they’re out of the suburbs, Mingyu turning down the radio. He’s relaxed, leaning back in his seat, one hand on the wheel. She can’t tell if it’s a front or not. “So like we mentioned yesterday, you’ll be staying with us in our apartment. It’s fairly spacious, and you’ll have your room. If you want to stay in there all day that’s fine, but I have a thing about eating dinner together so I’d like you to join us for that.”</p><p>    Chaeyoung nods. There could be worse stipulations. “So you both work?”</p><p>    Mingyu hums. “For our dad’s company. Minky’s the real face of it all. He had both of us working to eventually take over as CEO since we knew how to say the word business, but she was always more cut out for it than I was. She actually got the position last year after Dad stepped down. Well, relatively stepped down. He gave up his CEO position but he’s still the owner of the company, so he still has a place on the board. It’s nice though, the board seems to respect her even though she’s still young. A couple months ago they--”</p><p>    “And what do you do?” she asks, interrupting him. His cheeks flush, pink showing through the slight bronze of his skin.</p><p>    “Sorry, I tend to ramble sometimes. I’m more of the finance person. Minkyung holds meetings and travels some, but whenever she has a lot of paperwork she shoulders some off to me. I also model in my spare time.”</p><p>    Interesting. “Well you do have the face for it,” Chaeyoung comments. He grins, wide and charming.</p><p>    “Thank you.”</p><p>    Silence falls between them again. Mingyu’s hand taps along to the radio, against his thigh as he sings the song under his breath. His fingers rap complex rhythms against the steering wheel. There’s barely any wrinkles on his clean white tee, but a little spot shimmers under the light on his dark trousers. It was probably covered up by his jacket earlier, thrown somewhere in the backseat. Chaeyoung looks out of the window, watching as tall buildings start to come into view. “Does he know about me?” she asks suddenly.</p><p>    She almost expects him to avoid the question, maybe pretend that he doesn’t know who she’s talking about, but Mingyu is surprisingly intuitive. “Are you asking if he knows that you exist? Or that he knows that you’ll be staying with us?”</p><p>    “Both. Either.” <em> Maybe neither, </em> she thinks, her stomach churning.</p><p>    “He...he knows about you, yes. And he’s...aware that we reached out to you. That you’ll be staying with us.”</p><p>    Chaeyoung notes how he chooses his words carefully. “But he doesn’t like it?” Mingyu shakes his head.</p><p>    “I shouldn’t say.”</p><p>    “Because he doesn’t want you to?”</p><p>    “Because <em> I </em>don’t want to,” he stresses. Small street shops appear on the side of the road, people bustling around like the little ants in Seoyeon’s fourth grade ant hill. Chaeyoung’s arms tighten around the bag in her lap, one of her hands covering a tightening fist. Her leg starts to bounce.  </p><p>    “Don’t I have the right to know that my father hates me? Hates my existence?”</p><p>    Mingyu sighs. He runs a hand through his dark tresses, the other still tapping beats on the wheel. She didn’t even realize a song was still playing. “My relationship with my--<em> our </em> father is complicated. I won’t speak for Minkyung, her matters are her matters. But the one thing I always knew, even through all the rough patches, was that he loved his children. He <em> loves </em> his children. In their greatest achievements and,” Mingyu gulps. Chaeyoung can’t help but want to take the hand that’s idly, frantically scratching at his knee. “...and through their greatest disappointments. He could never hate you.”</p><p>    A thick silence takes over in the car. Mingyu continues to drive, and Chaeyoung continues to think. She can’t tell whether the tall, glass buildings getting closer and closer are a blessing or a curse. The sight is both a guarantee that she’ll be exiting this car soon, and a harbinger of the new reality she’s about to be living in. Her hands itch for something to hold onto, something to ground themselves with. She clasps them together as a substitute.</p><p>    “Do you think he knew about me before you two did?”</p><p>    Mingyu shrugs, rubbing his eye. He stares straight ahead. “I didn’t ask,” he lies. He’s a bad liar. She should know, she is too. His fingers are still tapping. Resemblance continues to pop up like the thin scars that you catch on your limbs. Questionable, but not entirely unwelcome. Marks that bring on questions that can bug in the back of your mind for hours. </p><p>    “I won’t pretend to understand you, Chaeyoung,” he says, moments later. She must have been caught in thought, looking for any other similarities they might have. Didn’t even notice that the car had stopped, parked the slightest bit crookedly at the side of an apartment building. She doesn’t try to open the door, it’s probably still locked. So she gives him her eyes, lets him know that she’s listening. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to. That <em> we </em>don’t want to. And when you’re ready, I want you to want that too. For us to understand you, and for you to understand us. Cool?”</p><p>    She nods. Mingyu grins, charming as ever. She senses that’s going to be a trend. “Cool! So to start...could you tell me something about yourself? That I don’t already know.”</p><p>    “I don’t know what you know,” she says dryly. His smile drops, and she rolls her eyes. “I don’t know just--just ask me something else. Be more specific.”</p><p>    “Alright...could you tell me about your mother? I-If you’re comfortable with that.”</p><p>    In a way, she’s not. In a way, she’ll never be. But in another way, she knows what Mom would say. To not linger on the past, and keep a plan for the future tucked in your pocket. That in the present, your job is to balance them in everything you do, and balance them well. Her grief sits still like groundwater, absorbed into a little ball and only to be released when she decides to find a shovel. It doesn’t sit on her teeter-totter of the present. What does, though, is her mom. Her smiles and her tears. Her laughter and her words. Her love. </p><p>    And her love transcends all time.</p><p>    Chaeyoung dares to lift the corners of her lips. “She was the greatest person I’ll ever know.”</p><p>    She doesn’t expect Mingyu to reflect that same, close-lipped smile back at her. “Now that I understand,” he says, and unlocks the door. </p><p>    She always imagined rich people’s apartments to be disturbingly clean and disgustingly monochromatic. That’s of course with her only true reference being movie and tv sets and the homes of five star celebrities. But the Kim siblings’ home is surprisingly...homey. And colorful. A palette of blues and greens and greys and creams, fairly dark wooden floors. It was spacious enough, but not abundantly so. She does feel that it must have been a little empty with only the two of them, though.</p><p>    The main living space was an open area, stretching from the entrance to the back wall. The kitchen was nearest to them, with dark cabinets and white countertops, the cabinets wrapping around in a rectangular manner to form an island. Just past that is a small dining area, six chairs around the table. Right in front of the back wall was the living room, with a sliding door that led to a roomy balcony. If you turn right between the dining table and the island, there’s two bedrooms with their own bathrooms. Chaeyoung’s told that hers is on the other side of the apartment. She doesn’t know how to feel about being purposely separated just yet. They were probably thinking it was for her benefit, but a weird feeling still sits vigilant in her chest. </p><p>    She calls the girls as soon as she has the space to, Mingyu announcing that they’re going out for lunch before giving her time to get acclimated. As the FaceTime noise dials she folds her legs underneath her, resting her head back on the mattress. Her feet slide against the smooth wood floors.</p><p>    She hears Jiwon before she sees her. Before she sees anything really, because the girl’s hand is covering the front camera. But she’s yelling, and by the thumping footsteps she can presume that she’s running. Then suddenly there’s light, and she catches familiar glow in the dark stars that were painstakingly stuck to the ceiling. </p><p>    “You two had a sleepover without me?” She pouts.</p><p>    “More like she invaded my home,” Seoyeon grumbles. They struggle over the phone for a second before both appear in the frame. Jiwon shrugs.</p><p>    “Can’t invade it if I live here.”</p><p>    “But you don’t live here, that’s the thing.”</p><p>    Jiwon gasps like she’s been accused of murder. All Chaeyoung can do is smile, leaning her head on the palm of her hand. Even barely a day without them had seemed too long. Some would say that that amount of codependency is a little worrying, but whatever. If only she cared. </p><p>    “I mean you have been gone for like two years, Megan,” she inputs.</p><p>    “And I come back almost every weekend! For you two!” She sniffles and flails dramatically backwards, covering her face. “I guess no one in this family loves me.”</p><p>    Seoyeon pats her shoulder sympathetically. “My brother loves you.”</p><p>    “God, don’t remind me.”</p><p>    Chaeyoung chuckles at their banter, starts to pick at some of the loose threads in her jeans. “I’ll ask if you two can come over as soon as I can.”</p><p>    “As soon as you can?” Jiwon frowns, getting closer to the camera as she rises up on her elbows. “Are they not letting you talk or something? Do I need to fight some rich people? Because I will!”</p><p>    Seoyeon rolls her eyes, pushing her face out of the frame. Apparently off the bed as well, judging by the yelp and thump that she hears. She barks out a laugh before covering her mouth, shoulders shaking.</p><p>    “What are they like?” she asks softly. Chaeyoung takes a moment to compose herself.</p><p>    “Mingyu’s nice. He’s th--my brother. He seemed sweet when we drove over here. Chill.”</p><p>    “<em> Chill </em>,” Jiwon mocks once she’s back on the bed. Chaeyoung sticks out her tongue. “What about the other one?”</p><p>    “Don’t know, haven’t had the chance to really talk to her,”she admits. Her fingers trace the grain of the floors. She tries her best not to scratch them with her nails. They need to be clipped soon. Nail care wasn’t the highest of her priorities for the past couple weeks. “She seemed nice when we met after the funeral, but who knows. Mingyu said she works a lot.”</p><p>    “If she’s a bitch I’ll fight her.” Jiwon bats away Seoyeon’s hand this time, retaliating by smacking her stomach. “I’m serious! Just say the word.”</p><p>    Chaeyoung giggles. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she says. It comes out a little too quiet at the end of her laughter, just enough that her friends’ eyes soften. She sighs. “When do you go back to school Jiwon?”</p><p>    “I have to be back on Monday,” she groans. “Are we sure that I can’t drop out?”</p><p>    Seoyeon frowns, turning to face her. “I thought you liked college?”</p><p>    “Yeah, but I like you guys better.” She and Seoyeon aww and coo at the older girl’s words. Her face twists in displeasure, and she squirms away from the redhead’s arms seeking to wrap around her waist. Eventually she lets her, a hand coming up to pat the cheek that doesn’t rest in the crook of her neck. “Alright enough of that. How big is your room?”</p><p>    Chaeyoung sighs, standing up before turning in a circle, letting them see the full area. “Pretty big,” she says. “Like, at least as big as the living room. Maybe a little smaller.”</p><p>    The two on the other end share a look before turning back to the camera. “Yeah, we’re definitely coming to your place to hang out more,” Seoyeon says. Chaeyoung scoffs.</p><p>    “Like you didn’t do that before?”</p><p>    “Well now you live with rich people so there’s more of a reason to.”</p><p>    Chaeyoung’s about to reply when someone knocks on the door. She turns down the volume, lowering her phone. “Yes?”</p><p>    It opens without a sound, Mingyu’s head poking through the crack. “Do you need more time?”</p><p>    Her brows knit together. “Why, should we be leaving now?”</p><p>    “We don’t have to. Minkyung just called and said she finished up a little earlier than she expected, so she’s heading to the restaurant now. I just figured that the more time you two get to spend together…” he trails off. </p><p>    He doesn’t need to finish. She nods. “Just give me a couple minutes.”</p><p>    The door barely just shuts before Jiwon starts up again. “He’s cute,” she says. Chaeyoung’s nose scrunches up. </p><p>    “Gross, that’s my brother.”</p><p>    “Now you know how I feel!” Seoyeon exclaims. </p><p> </p><p>    They’re dining at this nice bistro fifteen minutes away from the apartment. Minkyung’s already there like her brother said, showing her teeth as she laughs with another tall, dark haired woman with longer hair than hers. She looks more relaxed than she did when they first met, suit jacket thrown onto the back of her seat and the sleeves of her button up rolled up to her elbows. A black business skirt stops at her knees.</p><p>    Their conversation stops abruptly when she and Mingyu get closer to the table, and they turn to greet them. Her companion is long faced and soft featured, dressed with the same amount of casualness as herself. Probably not a coworker then. </p><p>    Minkyung stands, unexpectedly. Her right hand makes to go out before both are wiped on the sides of her skirt, like she doesn’t know what to do with them. She doesn’t blame her. Attempting to give your new sibling a handshake like it’s a business transaction does seem rather awkward, and they’re not close enough for a hug. A high five, maybe. She’d give Mingyu a fist bump.</p><p>    “Chaeyoung! How’s the room? Is there anything you need?”</p><p>    “Minky,” Mingyu says simply. They look at each other for a few moments, speaking wordlessly before she nods twice. Once to herself, once again at Chaeyoung.</p><p>    “Sorry, I didn’t know exactly how...comfortable you’d be with all this yet.”</p><p>    “Not at all.” She realizes that she’s spoken without thinking when her company’s eyes all widen. She stutters, hands flailing as she tries to backtrack. “No no I mean--um--I just can’t adjust easily to new environments. It takes some time, usually,” she finishes lamely. The tablecloth is rather interesting, isn’t it?</p><p>    “Oh.” Minkyung blinks. “Well that’s okay.”</p><p>    She nods, still looking at the tablecloth. “Okay.”</p><p>    “Okay.”</p><p>    They stare at each other for a bit before Mingyu clears his throat, pulling out the chair in front of her before sitting in his own. She sits, playing with her hands in her lap. </p><p>    A hand suddenly comes into her peripheral, catching her attention as it taps on the table. She looks up at the woman attached to it. “Hi,” she says. Her smile is sweet, naturally cheeky with one corner of her mouth lifting higher than the other. “I’m Kyungwon.”</p><p>    “Chaeyoung,” she replies, smiling back politely. “I um, I’m living with them.” she points to the siblings, Minkyung totally not listening in while pretending to check her phone and Mingyu looking over the menu. </p><p>    Kyungwon shrugs. “I figured. We usually don’t have teenagers join us for lunch.”</p><p>    “Chaeyoung,” Minkyung calls. They both turn their heads. “Kyungwon lives with us too. She’s my girlfriend.” Mingyu does a fake cough at the words, but she ignores him in favor of searching Chaeyoung’s expression. The younger only shrugs.</p><p>    “Cool,” she says, and turns back to Kyungwon. “So where do you work?”</p><p>    “I’m full time at the local animal shelter. If you ever need somewhere to chill after school or whatever you kids do, the door’s always open. Just don’t be mean to the animals.”</p><p>    A more genuine smile starts to creep on her face. “Cool,” she repeats, and starts to flip through her menu. She can see Minkyung start to relax out of the corner of her eye.</p><p>    She ends up picking one of the sandwich options. It came with two sides and was one of the cheaper options off of the menu. She feels a bit out of place with her cola as the server comes by with Minkyung’s glass of red, Mingyu’s cocktail, and Kyungwon’s beer. “Rough day then?” she jokes, but brushes it off when they look at her strangely. Maybe the movies are right when they make it seem like rich people drink for leisure more than solace. </p><p>    “So how did you meet Minkyung?” she asks Kyungwon. Breaking the ice was really only a secondary goal. She wanted to learn more about her, this woman who she’s never had a comfortable, pleasant conversation with. </p><p>    Kyungwon smiles charmingly. “The three of us went to school together, actually.”</p><p>    “They’ve been attached at the hip since middle school,” Mingyu continues for her. “Learning that they were together was one of the least surprising things I’ve ever heard.”</p><p>    Chaeyoung nods in understanding. There were kids in school who always thought two of their little trio were going to pair up together, simply because of their closeness. Now they’ve all known each other long enough to realize that that would probably never happen, but sometimes when a new kid comes in someone has to set them straight. That someone is usually, unfortunately, Chaeyoung. </p><p>    “I’d ask how you know these two,” Kyungwon says, trying to carry on the conversation. “But, well--”</p><p>    “They sprung the news on me two hours after my mother’s burial,” she says. The table goes silent. Kyungwon’s face takes an awkward shape, caught between continuing her casual, friendly smile and dropping it. Oh. So that wasn’t the right thing to say. Come on Lee, use your head. Segway, segway, segway, seg--</p><p>    “Speaking of which, um, my friends...the two you saw with me that day,” she pauses, thinking over her words. “I was wondering how soon they could come over? Or if they could come over at all, really. I don’t want to just ignore any rules you two might have.”</p><p>    Minkyung gives her a puzzled look. “We never talked about any rules.”</p><p>    “I know! Ju-just in case you have any, or anything,” she ends in a mumble.</p><p>    “There are none,” Mingyu says. He and Minkyung exchange looks before he continues. “Other than the obvious--don’t trash the place, don’t be disrespectful, don’t steal anything. Maybe give us a heads up first if you’re going to invite people over, but we’re not here to restrict you, Chaeyoung. You’re not some foster kid or a ward, you’re our sister. We want you to be comfortable here.”</p><p>    “Be comfortable with <em> us </em>,” Minkyung finishes for her brother.</p><p>    Chaeyoung likes to think she gets along well with people. It’s hard for her to dislike someone (unless they hit a very specific set of criteria, in which case there’s no coming back from that stain on their reputation.) Usually she clicks quickly with those who’ll become important to her. From the moment Seoyeon was sat next to her in Grade 1 she knew they were going to be best friends (of course that was a biased judgement considering they had the same name, but it all worked out.) When Jiwon’s mother watched her before she was of school age, she remembers being wary of the older girl before she invited her to play in her mom’s makeup kit. (Nothing quite solidifies a friendship than being chewed out together.) Every adult she was introduced to as a child pinched her chubby cheeks and cooed over her big eyes, every kid in school voted her for ‘Most Likeable’ in class superlatives. It’s just a feeling she has, when she meets people.</p><p>    The feeling has abandoned her with these three. It said sayonara and took an inopportune vacation. Something about looking at these eyes that mirror her own and smiles that look too similar has sent it on the fritz. But it’s better than blaring alarms, she supposes. </p><p>    Even with her general conviviality, very rarely are people let into her inner circle. Only a few have crossed the moat <em> and </em>been welcomed through the castle gates. And it’s clear that these two hope for their blood to be some sort of secret passcode to let them breeze through. Even if they say they have no expectations, they do, everyone does. If anything, them being related makes the journey longer. Water is thicker than blood, in Chaeyoung’s experience. By necessity, they’ve made it halfway across the moat, but the water is terribly deep. Falling in might possibly be fatal.</p><p>    “Be comfortable with us,” Minkyung says, earnesty shining through her catlike eyes. Chaeyoung nods with a small smile just as the food arrives. Somewhere, a boat kicks off the shore. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>     “Mom? I’m home!” Chaeyoung announces as she walks through the front door. She judges the amount of force needed to close it before pushing it closed. If the push is too weak it doesn’t close, and if it’s too strong it just bounces off of the frame. Mom says they’ll get a new door soon, but she’s been saying that for months. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>     “Which child is this?” she hears in return. From the living room, it sounds like. Chaeyoung grins impishly, setting her bag down gently and tiptoeing through the house. Mom’s reading in front of the muted tv, some old movie playing on it. Mary Poppins, it looks like. She sneaks up behind her, covering her eyes with her hands before she can turn back and look. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>     “Guess who?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>     Her mother hums, tapping a thoughtful finger on her chin. Chaeyoung giggles. “I don’t know, it’s been so long that you all act the same. Seoyeon?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>     Her hands drop, as does her smile. She comes around to stand in front of her mom, frowning. “I don’t even sound like Seoyeon!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>    “I’m just kidding Kwaengie.” Chaeyoung sighs, dropping onto the couch beside her. She leans into her touch as the older woman ruffles her hair. “I can always tell when it’s you. Don’t get jealous.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>     “I’m not jealous,” she mumbles. Mom chuckles. They both turn as the front door squeaks open, a heavy bag dropping unceremoniously on the floor with a large thunk. The aforementioned girl shuffles in seconds later, plopping down onto the floor and leaning her head on Chaeyoung’s leg.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>     Mom smiles warmly down at her. “Tired, Seoyeonie?” She doesn’t answer. Once she’s called again to no avail, her mother sighs and gives Chaeyoung a knowing tip of the head. The girl tucks her friend’s hair away from her ear, revealing it to be bare. She sighs herself and kicks Seoyeon’s shoulder, making her look up. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>     “Where are your aids?” she signs. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>     “In my bag. Long day,” she replies simply. She looks at the tv, staring at it with a furrowed brow before glancing up at Mom. “Mary Poppins?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>     She shrugs. “It was on.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>     Seoyeon hums and goes back to leaning on Chaeyoung’s leg, watching with content. Her mom is about to go back to reading before she starts up again, running her fingers over the blonde’s scalp. “There was a new girl today, from Canada. Her name is Julia.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>     “Oh?” She dog ears the book, effectively finishing it for the day. “That’s interesting. Is she cute?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>     “Mooooom,” Chaeyoung whines, feeling her cheeks heat up. The older woman just gives her an imploring stare. It lasts for seconds before she fesses up. “A little,” she admits. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>     “I knew it.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>     She rolls her eyes, going back to watching the movie. Her phone vibrates against her thigh, a message from Jiwon about helping her with her math homework. She responds with a promise to look at it later.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>     The three of them continue to watch in silence, only interrupted by a couple of her mother’s coughing spells and opinionated mumbles from Seoyeon. Just as one ends Mom faces her, placing her hand over hers. “Chaeyoung-ah,” she calls. Chaeyoung turns her head, curiosity spiking under her soft gaze. “You’re the luckiest girl I’ll ever know.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>     Her brows knit together. “Why? Because I have you as a mom? How narcissistic of you.” Mom shakes her head. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>    "No no, although that’s very nice of you to say.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>    “It’s the truth.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>    "Well for once I need you to stop being honest, okay? Just…” she sighs, her thumb stroking over the back of her daughter’s hand. “You have this uncanny ability, this fortune that just surrounds you with the best people. Since you were born I’ve had many fears about how your life would go, where you would end up, what would happen if you’ll ever have to be without me.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>    "But I’ll never be without you,” Chaeyoung interjects. She shushes her with a small smile. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>    "But as time went on...those worries faded. Because you, my darling girl, are so good, and so full of light. Everyone you trust is attracted to it, and each one of them has the same light in them as well. Whoever you meet in the future will be the same way. So no matter what happens, I know you’ll be alright.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>     Chaeyoung’s eyes narrow, her voice teasing. “And you know that for a fact?” she says. Even if not, she’d still believe it to be. Her mother’s word is her law. She is the strongest source of faith that she has.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>     Mom’s other hand comes up to cup her cheek, leaning forward to place a kiss on her forehead. “If I believe in nothing else,” she whispers. “It’s in that.” </em>
</p><p>    In the three weeks following Chaeyoung’s arrival to the Kim household, she develops a routine. Well actually, less of a routine and more of an expectation. (Even then not an expectation, not until she’s sure. She has no clue when that will be.) </p><p>    Mingyu cooks breakfast lunch and dinner, delicious meals that she would feel free to stuff her face with if she was less polite and didn’t feel like a guest in her own place of living. One day he asked what her favorite meal wass and she lied, saying that she doesn’t have one. He didn’t press it, so it probably wasn’t that important. Her brother also drops her off and picks her up from school. She hasn’t stopped wondering if one day he won’t be there (his usual promptness doesn’t make it better--each minute that he’s late Chaeyoung gets more prepared to walk When he has a good day at work, he’ll ramble on and on as they drive back to the apartment and turn on the radio so they can sing along to whatever idol is topping the charts. When it’s a bad day he’ll take them for ice cream on the way. Ice cream is nice and all, but it’s still a toss up between which she prefers.</p><p>    Kyungwon drifts around like the neighborhood cat. Not the one that she and Jiwon tried to shave in middle school, the other one. The one that her mom started to call Lentil and that she had to be convinced to let go because “free spirits can’t be locked up Chaeyoungie, it’s against their nature.” She doesn’t think Kyungwon is that much of a free spirit. Sure on her days off she’ll wake up at noon and snack like she has a bottomless stomach, but she’ll also play videogames with her and tell her about the snake some dumb kid tried to poke at work. But then sometimes she leaves without a word, not returning until the next evening for dinner. Is it because she’s uncomfortable? Chaeyoung can’t help but wonder if her presence has ever become too much. Her friends melded in with her and her mother like a second skin, but she wonders how it feels for other people when their ecosystem of three adapts to four. Silence doesn’t exist in her life very often anymore. She’s noticed now, there’s almost always someone else in the house. Herself included.</p><p>    The girls come by a lot, like, at least three times a week. Some days when they don’t come to her, she goes to them until it’s time for dinner. They watch trashy movies together on the 50” and scroll through the IKEA website while circling around the room for hours, and when no one else is home (which happens not very often but often enough) they blast the music quiet enough to not disturb the neighbors and hold impromptu dance parties. It’s fun, doing things like old times. Like old times, but different. Sometimes when they’re singing (yelling) along to the music she hears another voice join them. It doesn’t happen very often, but often enough.</p><p>    (Once they’ve pooped themselves out, lying side to side on the cold floor or slumped onto each other on the couch, Jiwon asks questions. An innumerable amount of questions at this point, some she doesn’t even know the answer to. ‘How do you feel?’ ‘Are they nice?’ ‘Do you like it here?’ ‘Do you want to come home?’)</p><p>    Sometimes Chaeyoung feels like a ghost. She isn’t always addressed when she enters a room, or when someone else does. She’ll make a noise (accidentally and with purpose) and her cohabitors suddenly look up, startled. ‘When did you get there?’ their eyes ask, when she hadn’t moved for hours. Often enough she’ll be the last person to drift into the living space, drawn in by the smell of food when the others are already eating or stumbling upon the height of close, boisterous laughter. It’s this that makes a difficult question even more so. </p><p>    ‘Do you want to go home?’ is no longer a question without conditions. Home used to be the door that wouldn’t shut half the time and the kitchen with cracked tiles that needed regrouting. Home was where she ran to halfway through a bad school day, and warm arms that smelled of sharp, pretty perfume and the smoke of a stove. She has other homes, of course, but one is already a tight enough squeeze and the other has to come and go, only returning for a weekend at most. The house was left to her, but she will not live there. Not for a while, at least. (She couldn’t imagine selling it either. It was home, she wouldn’t dare.) And home is not--might not ever be--shiny floors and business suits, the smell of pancakes every Saturday morning instead of every other morning. Casual conversations that she’ll never be completely privy to, the sound of keyboards and metered out scratches of pen on paper. Comfort takes time, but she was never very patient. </p><p>    Minkyung is somehow both the least and most predictable. Minkyung works. There are some days that she’s gone before Chaeyoung wakes up and doesn’t return until dinner is almost served, but most of the time they pass by each other. It’s a strange synergy that they have. Waking up and getting ready together, eating breakfasts of little words and frivolous big words before going their separate ways. One Saturday they watched tv together for hours, binging some drama that Minkyung recently lost track of and that she never had the concentration to start. But even then, her interactions with her sister seem...out of touch. They’re like the south poles of two magnets, with that little bubble of space in between that never lets them connect. She’s thinking about asking for her to take her to work one day. Maybe then it’ll be easier, somewhere where the older woman is more comfortable. But then again, what’s more comfortable than home?</p><p>    (A home without a stranger in it.)</p><p>    On the third Friday after she’s moved in, Mingyu takes them for a detour on the way home. It ends up being a small bakery a couple of minutes away, stuck in the middle of a row of other shops that she’s not familiar with yet. She hadn’t been out much since Mom was hospitalized, and it’s an unfamiliar street in the city anyways.</p><p>    A little bell rings as Mingyu strides through the door, and she sees any tension in his shoulders slip away as the smell of fresh pastries enters her nose. Deeply, she inhales. Mom used to bake on her days off.</p><p>    The walls are a calming color, like a deep sky blue with a greyish tint to it. The hardwood floors creak when she shifts her weight, not too loud but noticeably enough. It all feels very calming.There’s not a lot of people there, most sitting by themselves and scattered around the bakery. She follows her brother to the counter, already prepared to wait when she sees there’s no one behind it. Mingyu rings the bell on top of the display case. </p><p>    A short brunette comes out of what Chaeyoung assumes is the kitchen. She still looks older than her despite coming up to about her neck. Her eyes were small and cloudy, taking up little space on her already small face. She smiles politely at them, growing into a more genuine one once she seems to recognize Mingyu. “Here for Jihoon?” she asks.</p><p>    He shrugs. “And some cake. Do you still have the raspberry one or did everyone else realize how wonderful it is?</p><p>    “If we didn’t, I’d bully my cousin into making some more.” She punches some of the keys on the register, suddenly looking up at Chaeyoung. “And you?”</p><p>    Chaeyoung blinks as she focuses back in, glancing at the display case. God, how many options could a small bakery have? “Um…”</p><p>    Mingyu taps her shoulder, catching her attention. “Let me. If you don’t like it, I’ll just get you something else.”</p><p>    Why not. Chaeyoung nods. “No red fruits or nuts though, I’m allergic.”</p><p>    His eyes widen, but he nods before looking back at the display case. “Well that cuts down like half of your options,” he mutters. She rolls her eyes. He picks a plain chocolate cake.</p><p>    “If you want to talk with him I can get him out here, run the front for a bit,” the girl says as she gets their desserts for them. Mingyu hums his approval, a small smile growing on his face. </p><p>    “Thanks Jisun.”</p><p>    “No problem.”</p><p>    They sit across from each other in one of the booths on the wall. Mingyu doesn’t start eating immediately, instead scrolling through something on his phone. It’s not hard to tell that he’s waiting for her to start, especially when he conveniently glances up once she takes her first bite. Her brows knit together at the sweet taste that floods her mouth, rich and moist.</p><p>    “This,” she says, “may just be the best cake I’ve ever had.” Mingyu smiles.</p><p>    “I knew it.” </p><p>    She almost scarfs down the whole thing before remembering that it’s her only slice, slowing down about halfway through. Mingyu doesn’t seem to have the same concern, glancing at the counter between every bite. He suddenly lights up after a couple minutes, and she looks up to see a short man with silver hair. Not dwarfish, but even from a distance she can tell that he sits a few centimeters beneath her.</p><p>    Mingyu has a very puppyish grin on his face when he slides into the seat beside him. “Hi,” he simply greets. The man--she can only guess that he’s Jihoon--rolls his eyes fondly.</p><p>    “Hello to you too. It’s been a while.”</p><p>    Mingyu frowns, confused. “I just saw you on Wednesday.”</p><p>    “I meant since you came to the shop, dumbass.”</p><p>    “Oh!” Chaeyoung snorts into her cake at his blunder. “Yeah, it’s all been a little hectic. The company is going through some stuff that’s still building up, and then we’re still making sure Chaeyoung is situated at home--this is Chaeyoung, by the way.” She looks up mid-chew when her name is called, eyes wide and shifting in her seat as Jihoon scans over her.</p><p>    “So you’re the new sister?” He asks. Mingyu tries to elbow his side subtly. She swallows, setting down her fork. Her free hand curls into a loose fist.</p><p>    “I am. It’s nice to meet you.” He narrows his eyes. She mirrors him. After a few tense moments, Mingyu glancing between the two of them all the while, Jihoon eases up and leans back into the booth.</p><p>    “Likewise. I hope you like the city.”</p><p>    She shrugs, relaxing as well. “It’s okay.” Mingyu lets out a relieved breath out of the corner of her eye. </p><p>    Jihoon’s lips curl upwards. “That’s what I said when I first moved here too.” He turns to her brother. “Speaking of sisters, where’s the prettier twin? It's been a while, I need someone to bitch with.” Pause. They’re twins?</p><p>    “Like I said, the company’s going through some stuff.” Mingyu cuts and spears a piece of cake as he explains. ‘Some stuff’ is another thing she’s not quite privy to yet, but her siblings are working almost every time she sees them. It’s easy to tell things aren’t business as usual. “You’ll probably see her next time you come over, but I don’t know if she’ll be free enough to talk with you.”</p><p>    “Fair enough.”</p><p>    “Do you come over often?” Chaeyoung interjects, drawing them out of their little bubble. She’s not trying to be rude, but it’d be nice to know if there’s another cog to this routine that she’s starting to build.</p><p>    Jihoon furrows his brow. “I haven’t recently, but yes.” He turns to exchange glances with her brother, is met with a nod and clear eyes. Sighing, he turns back to her. “We’re dating. It’s a thing.”</p><p>    She pauses, fork half raised to her mouth. A chuckle tumbles out of her before she can set it down again, and pinches at the bridge of her nose with her free hand. Once she composes herself and looks up again, the men across from her are staring with puzzled looks. “What are the chances of all three of a man’s children being gay?” she says, like that explains anything.</p><p>    Mingyu’s responding laughter draws the attention of the whole bakery.</p><p> </p><p>    “Did you know that they’re twins?” Chaeyoung asks when Seoyeon comes over, days later. They’re in the living room, some drama playing on mute. The redhead comes to flop on her, head resting right under her chin. Chaeyoung’s hand rests at the small of her back.</p><p>    “I mean they do look really alike. Like, more than you and them do.”</p><p>    She rolls her eyes. “That’s just basic genetics though, unless we all look like our dad we’re not going to look alike.” Jiwon faces her phone towards the screen of her laptop, a Wikipedia article pulled up.</p><p>    “Google says that they’re twins.”</p><p>    “So Google knows more than me, big surprise.”</p><p>    Seoyeon lifts her head, looking at her with furrowed brows. “You didn’t think to ever look them up?” </p><p>    She narrows her eyes. “No? I didn’t want to be intrusive.”</p><p>    “You’re related, and you’re living together,” Jiwon deadpans. “The only way you could be more intrusive right now is if you slept in their beds at night.” Her face scrunches up. That’s an uncomfortable thought.</p><p>    “What else don’t you know?”</p><p>    “Um..” Chaeyoung scratches at her head, looking up as if the answer was written on the ceiling. “I don’t know what the company does, really. But I know that it’s big!”</p><p>    “We’re tech manufacturers.” She and Seoyeon both turn towards the front door, eyes widening as Minkyung sets down her bags. The older girl rolls off of her immediately, falling on the ground with a loud thump. When she straightens up again Minkyung stares with a puzzled amusement before continuing. “Not as big as Apple or Microsoft and those other ones, but we manufacture the parts that they use. We’re probably in your laptop, Chaeyoung,” she says, gesturing to the device. Seoyeon and Jiwon sign quickly at each other before brunette waves her goodbye, the screen returning to the Skype menu.</p><p>    Chaeyoung rolls over and sits up, nodding. “Cool.”</p><p>    Minkyung tilts her head, narrowing her eyes. “You say that a lot.”</p><p>    “It’s an easy word to say,” she replies. Minkyung seems to accept that answer, her gaze changing when she greets their other companion.. She moves to sit across from them in the armchair, toeing off her heels and sinking back into the chair with a sigh. “Hard day?” Chaeyoung asks.</p><p>    “Could’ve been better. There’s this one issue that honestly could’ve been solved weeks ago if those stubborn executives just let me do my job. And then there’s the whole thing with--” she stops, seems to catch herself. Sighing again, she says, “It’s just difficult.”</p><p>    Weird how she cut herself off, but okay. Chaeyoung furrows her brow. “You’re CEO, aren’t you? Don’t they have to do what you say?”</p><p>    “Even with the authority being CEO gives me I can’t just be a dictator. Collaborating is still an important part of the job,” she explains. “Plus they’re all old friends of Dad’s. I need to stay in their good graces or else they’ll vote me out the first chance they get.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “I have so much to teach you about business, kid.”</p><p>    “I don’t want to be a businessman,” is what comes out, short and pressing. She barely thought about it before the words left her lips. She hopes--by God she <em> prays </em> that that isn’t the reason they picked her up. Illegitimate child becomes a new heir to the Kim’s tech empire. All the pieces haven’t quite been put together yet, but they swirl around her mind like alphabet soup. Enough of a word has been pieced together for her to have her doubts. </p><p>    Minkyung looks up at her words, seemingly caught off guard. “No no, of course,” she stammers. “That’s your choice. I was just talking, forget about it.”</p><p>    Chaeyoung doesn’t forget about it. She tucks it away for later, silence seeping into the room through the opening made by an uncomfortable lull in conversation. She stares at the floor, making shapes with her hands until Seoyeon taps her knee. “I should go,” she signs.</p><p>    “Please don’t,” she signs back, eyes pleading. Her friend huffs through her nose, leaning in until her head rests against Chaeyoung’s leg. </p><p>    “Fine, but I shouldn’t hear this. Turning the aids off.” </p><p>    To that she nods, going back to playing with her hands. With a stray glance up she catches Minkyung watching them curiously. “You know sign language?”</p><p>    She bites her bottom lip, nodding. “Seoyeon started losing her hearing when she was little. We all learnt it.”</p><p>    “We?”</p><p>    “Me, Jiwon, Mom, Nakko’s still learning. We only really became friends a year or so ago though.” She glances down at her friend, who’s playing a very intense game of Flappy Bird. “Did you want to be a businesswoman?” she asks. Five seconds rest between then and when her sister responds.</p><p>    “Yes,” she answers, but doesn’t say more than that. Then, like they’re trading questions, she asks, “Do you want to meet Dad?”</p><p>    Twelve seconds later she says, “No.” They leave it at that. Seoyeon whines as her bird flies into a column. Minkyung unmutes the TV.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>as always, feel free to leave any comments, and i hope you enjoyed</p></blockquote></div></div>
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